Mori sat in a brightly lit palace, at a long, glorious table. The pillars gleamed with an angelic hue, and the torches blazed with renewed intensity, casting dancing shadows on the marble floors.
Mori looked around the grand hall, his gaze sweeping over the opulent surroundings as he rose from his seat. He stroked the nearest pillar, a nostalgic gleam in his eyes, mixed with a deep sense of ecstasy that seemed to seep into his very being.
He navigated through the sprawling lengths of a palace that had once belonged to him, a place he had ruled and cherished. But that was six thousand years ago.
He turned in a full circle, savoring the pleasure of being back in his home. But he hadn't expected it to happen so soon.
"It didn't."
Mori spun around, startled by the voice. It belonged to an old, almost frail man sitting at the same table, directly opposite Mori's original seat. Mori returned to the table at once and fixed the man with a steady gaze, his calm golden eyes studying him.
"What do you mean?" Mori asked, his voice steady, though confusion flickered across his expression.
"You think you're back in your palace," the old man said, his tone dismissive, "but you're wrong on both counts."
Mori frowned, his brow furrowing. "I understand I may not have truly returned, but this is still my palace."
"Was," the old man corrected, a chuckle escaping him. "This palace belongs to someone called the Heavenly Father God."
Mori's eyes narrowed, not in suspicion, but in confusion. "Never heard of that before."
"He was after your time, apparently. But he's replaced you now."
"You're joking," Mori's face tensed, disbelief flickering across his features. He didn't laugh. Neither did the old man.
"I wish I was. Sincerely do. But I'm not."
Mori glanced at the old man with an appraising look, then sat down wearily. He scanned the room once more and waved a slightly raised hand.
Nothing happened.
'Fuck... I'm not a king anymore. And according to this old guy, I don't own this palace anymore', he thought dully, retracting his hand with a loss of self ego.
Moreover, when Mori left it, it was devoid of any servants. Behemoth made sure of that.
With a composed smile, Mori recalled the fear that Behemoth had borne while dying, fear so palpable that Mori could taste it. A smile curled at the edges of his lips as he savored that irreplaceable moment.
'Hey, that's the mark of a villain!', he chided himself sternly.
"Hey, who are you?"
"That's rude, lad. Speak to me with more respect, and I'll decide whether to answer you."
"More respect? Did I sound sassy?"
"Sassy is just an understatement. You're very rude for a Seraph…" the old man mumbled distinctly.
"Excuse me?"
"You're rude for a Seraph God," he repeated, twirling his long, majestic beard.
"I'd consider that a compliment. It's undeniably a feature of this vessel. I don't talk like this."
The old man heaved a sigh, displeasure clear on his face. Mori finally realized what he had been missing all this time.
"Okay, I'm sorry. Happy now?"
The old man glared at him for a while before speaking again.
"I'm Sun Tzu. Chinese general who lived in the Qin period –"
"Born in the Spring or Autumn of 544 BC, alias Sun Tzu… real name was probably something like Sun Wu."
"I can see you've read a lot about me, but I can assure you, most of those distorted facts are wrong."
Mori glared at him, the weight of his words striking deep. "Don't tell me I spent all my younger years reading trash!"
"You can't blame them. They only had twisted impressions from the start."
"Then why sound so certain about it?" Mori didn't know why he was so agitated, but it seemed to be a trait of the body he currently inhabited.
"Don't badger me, young swallow. I didn't come all the way here to discuss impudent matters with you."
"Young swallow? Reckon that's an archaic native term," Mori scratched his head, deep in thought. "And you don't have the right to call me young... I was before your time, with almost four thousand years!"
Sun Tzu scoffed impatiently, waving a hand dismissively. "Who cares? No one."
He looked at Mori, wagging a finger at him. "You've been reborn, and so has your soul. It may still retain memories and powers from your past, but—"
"You're wrong on two counts," Mori interrupted, holding up two fingers. "Blissful to use your own words against you," he sighed before continuing.
"First," he lowered a finger, "I wasn't reborn. I sort of transmigrated into a freshly killed body. And also, nothing has happened to my soul. My spell preserved it throughout the last thousand years."
Sun Tzu watched Mori with a slightly amused expression before shaking his head in disbelief. "You still sound like a youngster. Obviously, my earlier assumptions were wrong…"
Sun Tzu didn't speak further, lost in his own thoughts. Mori could tell from his distant eyes and vacant expression.
Mori's attention sharpened. What could distract a legendary war strategist to this extent?
What else, but war, of course.
"No, very unfortunate that it's not war-related this time," Sun Tzu said, shaking his head, his voice tinged with deep regret. "I hate wasting valuable thinking time on frivolities like peace-time stuff."
"How could I forget?" Mori grumbled, settling back into his seat. "Now, get to business."
Mori fixed Sun Tzu with a stare, one that the old general found intriguing. A glow lit up in Sun Tzu's eyes, a spark of energy like he hadn't had in ages.
"Is it about war? What kingdom are you invading next?"
"Excuse me? Do I, by any means, look like King Helu? Do I?"
The question was born from the original Mori's instinctive interest. King Helü of Wu was the Chinese king, whom Sun Tzu had reportedly served.
"What exactly were you doing during your days as a...?" Mori trailed off, curiosity piqued.
"Excuse me… what are you?" Mori asked.
Sun Tzu glanced at him, a strange, unhealthy glow creeping into his face. Mori recognized it at once.
"We can talk about war later… no, right after you answer my question…"
Sun Tzu smiled like a child, his expression so innocent it nearly moved Mori to tears. 'Imagine him calling me a young swallow... when he's the baby himself…'
Mori stifled the urge to laugh. That, he reasoned, would make him look even less honorable than he already did.
"Who are you?" Mori didn't mince words, dropping the question immediately after Sun Tzu recovered from his laughing spell.
By the way Sun Tzu's body language shifted, Mori could tell that the question had unsettled him.
'Well, two could play this game…'
"Like you already know," Sun Tzu stammered, pausing as his hands moved in an attempted gesture. "I'm Sun Wu, and—"
"I'm inclined to believe you're lying. Then, what are you doing in this era?" Mori fixed his glare on the old man, refusing to let him look away or form a lie.
Mori knew from experience how hard it was to lie under steady eye contact. He was counting on that.
"This is something you won't find in the myths, but I'm immortal," Sun Tzu finished his sentence with a flourish, his tone dripping with pride.
Mori remained skeptical. Immortal? Hmph…
Sun Tzu didn't notice the growing doubt in Mori's gaze, continuing his tale.
"I know you're lying," Mori said flatly, "but I'll still allow you the misconception that you're a fine liar." He smiled grimly, a smile tinged with ominous intentions. "So I believe you."
Sun Tzu laughed, his voice echoing gutturally through the vast court. When the laughter subsided, he fixed Mori with a steady gaze, his lips twitching as though trying to suppress another chuckle.
"Listen, boy. Clearly, you recall too much. And take it from me, it will be more of a curse than a blessing in the years to come."
Mori scoffed, a grin lifting his lips. "So you've finally acknowledged who I really am?"
Sun Tzu stretched his hand out and halted it just inches from Mori's forehead. Mori knew this wasn't a good sign.
But still, he allowed it. He loved experiments. This same nature had caused his death six thousand years ago.
'Well, I guess most immortals don't immediately learn their lessons.'
Sun Tzu drew his hand closer, his eyes cautious. Mori knew he was waiting for a reaction, but he didn't flinch.
"Goodbye, Métha Dael. At least, for the next few decades…"
In that split moment, before Sun Tzu's hand made contact with his forehead, Mori caught a glimpse of his own golden irises in Sun Tzu's eyes.
The most remarkable features he loved about himself. His golden eyes. He was so absorbed in his self-narcissism that he didn't notice when Sun Tzu's hand finally touched his forehead.
The sensation was nothing like what he expected—cold, clammy even. Instead, a powerful, unpleasant force consumed him. Pain flooded his body, his stomach churning violently.
He screamed in pain, collapsing from his seat, gripping the sides of his head with his hands in pain. He was used to it, but this body clearly wasn't.
He thrashed around on the floor, ignoring the strong urge to throw up. He waited for the pain to subside but it never happened.
"What the fuck did you do to me?"
Sun Tzu smiled, and in the midst of all the torment going on in him, Mori registered something familiar.
A glint in those very eyes, suggesting ulterior motives. How could he miss it before?
He was so used to them, but doubtlessly his senses had become dullened with time. The old man's grin lingered, blending seamlessly into a wicked scowl.
'Screw you…brother…'
"Wake up, Mori! Wake up!"